


both heart in heart

by bottlecaps



Series: Possessed!V AU [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottlecaps/pseuds/bottlecaps
Summary: V gets a gift he cannot contain in skin as human as his. A different take on V. Spoilers are mentioned inside.





	both heart in heart

**Author's Note:**

> hi there. i finished dmc5 the other day and looooooooved it so much. just adored it. and i adore v and all he is in the game. but i also had an idea that i wanted to get out of my head so i'm doing that here. more notes at the end for a few more ideas but enjoy this random babbling. there are spoilers for dmc 5 in here so proceed with caution.
> 
> didn't beta it, i proofread it a few times but if there are errors then i'll just have to live with that.

The store is closed now, and his dusting of the shelves is finally complete. It had been a slow day at the shop, only a few customers coming in and most of them looking for something more digital than he provides. He held no ill-will for people who enjoyed reading on a virtual medium—any way people chose to read was welcome in his mind—but he did not prefer it himself. For him, the feeling of a book in your hands, the tactile feel of pages against his fingertips, was all part of the experience. Still, a few college students looking for cheaper copies of their assigned readings had appeared, and he had been happy to assist them.

His shop was his pride and joy, something he’d inherited from his mother when she’d retired to the country, and he took meticulous care of it.

A meow from a nearby shelf made him pause, left him smiling as he offered his shoulder as a perch for the black cat. The demon gracefully leapt to him, setting its weight on the offered shoulder, as he flicked off the main lights in the shop and started up the stairs to his loft above.

Another gift from his mother—his demon friends. She’d dabbled in the arcane, had demons of her own all her life as a gift from _her_ mother before her. Fond memories of the wolf that had stayed at his side as he played, watching protectively for her when she had to be otherwise occupied, had pushed him to summon his own when he’d taken out on his own. There was always a price to pay in these things, but it was one he paid gladly, as his two friends brought joy and insight into his life that he would be bereft without.

The raven cawed at him in greeting as he rounded the stairs, cane clicking on the hardwood floor. His cat landed on the floor and made to pounce on the perched raven, causing him to squawk and making the man smile. The play fighting was par for the course for the two and he set about making himself something to eat before they’d retire for the night, settling into the same routine that they’d had for several years now.

* * *

 

He’d eaten all he cared to and had taken a seat, cat in his lap and raven perched on the back of the chair. The book in his hands was relatively new, not yet giving way to his fingers pliantly like some of his well-worn poetry books, but still soothing in its presence. He waited patiently as he read, a beak to his ear and a tail flicked at his wrist indicating he could turn the page at last. Sometimes he would read aloud to them when they didn’t feel like reading on their own, but it seemed they were content to read along on this night.

It all stopped though, when he heard something he never had before.

Feline ears perked up and the raven ruffled on it’s perch, looking unsettled but unsure about the source of the problem. V closed his book and stood slowly, walking to the window to glance out at the city street below to pinpoint the source of the sound.

It all happened in a flash. So suddenly that later he wouldn’t be able to identify the moment it happened.

There was a blinding light, something so blue it was nearly white, that took his entire vision and made his pupils narrow dots. He raised a hand to cover his eyes, but it was somehow still blinding, his eyelids useless at blocking it out. The source of the light could not be located as it seemed to come from everywhere at once and he felt disoriented beyond all measure.

Then there was pain. Pain sharp and hot in the very center of his chest—no, the center of his very _soul._ The shattering of the glass in front of him registered seconds too late as he stared down at the thing that had lodged into him, eyes wide at the giant sharp of _something_ that had embedded in his chest. It looked like a giant hunk of rock, translucent and blue, jagged around the edges and wickedly sharp. The pressure built up, he swore his ribs were cracking, and yet his mind could only numbly note that no blood seemed to be emerging from his chest.

It sinks into him fully and is gone like it never existed at all. The only clue that it had been there at all was the broken window before him, his hands feeling his chest for damage that isn’t there.

It’s only a moment of confusion, a handful of seconds to collect himself, before it happens again. His demons are frantic, wild, making noises and trying to get to him again but then they dissolve into dust. There is no time to wonder at it, to worry about them as a sudden throb of pain shoots through him. It doesn’t stop this time; however, he continues and burns through him like acid in his very veins.

He feels the pain most keenly where is tattoos are, the two shapes on his shoulder that mark his bond with his demons burning red hot on his skin. There’s a part of him, a small part that is somehow still processing despite the horror and pain thrumming in him, that desperately wants his friends to be left out of this. That wishes he had never made a pact with them, to spare them this potential pain. He doesn’t know if they’re injured but nothing has ever interfered with their bond, and as he stared at his shoulder he noticed that the shape began to change.

The lines extend from his shoulder, stark black circling over his chest and crawling down his arms. He stares in abject horror as they claim so much of his skin—marking his flesh as its own. There’s only a moment of worry in his mind, a flash of concern— _are they ok?—_ before he collapses on his knees. Palms flat against the ground and he can only vaguely here someone screaming in the distance, a loud and sickening sound that makes him wish he could stop hearing.

It takes far too long for him to realize that he is it’s origin.

* * *

 

He blacks out then but when his eyes flutter open again he has no concept for how much time he’s lost. There’s no time at all to humor that it might have been a hallucination, something his always imaginative mind had cooked up for him, as his ink-coated knuckles stand in stark defiance of his denial.

He doesn’t know what to do about it, the new humanity in his chest burning hot against his own. It’s too much for him to hold, too much for him to breathe around, and for a moment he feels he might pass out again from it.

A large head nudges him, pulls him out of his inner-panic, and he stares at the creature that is in front of him. Not the small cat that he was used to seeing, the quiet companion who shadowed his movements, but something more belonging in the jungle. She is larger than he is, beautiful and deadly, and he would be afraid if he didn’t recognize the affection in her eyes. Her concern is palpable, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek _ok? ok?_ and his hand comes up without a thought to stroke behind her ear _yes fine_.

It makes little sense, but she helps him stand, his already unreliable legs feeling even less so right now. She is different in appearance, much like he is, but her contents are the same and for that he is grateful. His companions have been his source of joy and to lose them would have been unbearable. There’s a flutter of wings and he looks at it’s source, surprised and yet not to see his raven is no longer such. Large and unlike any bird alive, and yet he knows that he is much like his cat, he is still the same creature wearing new skin, and he holds his arm out for the bird without question. It flaps over, wingspan taking up more space than his room allows for, but somehow still lands to perch on him.

The weight is more than he is used to, but the familiarity of his energy brings warmth to his very bones.

“You ok kid?”

He blinks at the sound, staring at the demon who had just spoken to him, wondering briefly if he had passed out yet again. The bird leans in and nips at his hair with affection, before it _snorts_ at him. “Really? You’re worried about a talking bird after everything you just saw?”

He has a point. “I’m fine,” he speaks in a rasp, his throat still raw from his earlier screams. It makes him wince when he clears it, shaking his head. “As fine as can be expected. You two seem well. I am glad it did not harm you.”

The bird clicks his beak at him and the panther rumbles under his hand. “We’re fine kid, but whatever went into you is bad news. It made us powerful, but a human body can’t hold on to all that without breaking.”

Breaking. That sounded… unpleasant at best. He looked at his hand, at the minute cracks forming on his palm, and frowns deeply.

“It seems I will need to do something about this,” he says mildly, uncertainty staining his tone because what is he supposed to _do_ in this situation?

_Dante._

A word, reverberating in his chest, in his very being. It made him let out a pained grunt, his hand grasping at his chest, but it doesn’t stop.

_Dante, Dante, Dante._

While he doesn’t know what to do, whatever has taken up residence in his chest only knows one destination—Dante is clearly the goal, and perhaps this person would know what to do.

There’s a growl at his side and the bird laughs, peering down at the annoyed panther on the ground. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, kid, let’s go. Shadow and I will get you there—we can feel it, too. Dante, right?”

_Yes._

“Yes,” he echoed the voice in his chest, nodding along. “Let us find this Dante and see what we can do about our situation.”

**Author's Note:**

> v is about nero's age in this, if people are curious, and is entirely human like lady-- just in the know. griffon and shadow did not have names prior to their 'upgrade.' the general idea is vergil's humanity found a similar host to hold on to him, and v now needs to go on his quest to give vergil back his 'gift' before it kills him. i might write some more based on this idea since i have a couple of scene ideas but i just wanted to get this out there to point to it as an explanation for wtf i'm doing with v. hope it was readable at the very least.


End file.
